


Heat Triggers

by eldee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Barebacking, Established Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Self-Lubrication, were!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldee/pseuds/eldee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is an omega who has time off from university to come home to his alpha mate Derek so they can spend Stiles’ heat together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Triggers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tourdefierce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tourdefierce/gifts).



> Loved writing for you, tourdefierce! You had great prompts, and I incorporated a few of them as best I could. I hope you enjoy. Thanks to my cheerleader/beta for all the awesome help!

Derek hears the jeep pulling up into the drive, familiar with the way it chugs along, the heavy foot on the pedal forcing it to. The rumbling engine and pounding music from the radio covers up the sounds of the driver, but Derek can perfectly picture Stiles humming along, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel as he stops in front of Derek’s house.

After the jeep is parked, and there's a slam of the driver side door, Derek can hear Stiles' heart. It's a steady beat, but picking up a little as he bounds up the stairs to the door. Derek's picks up too as anticipation thrums through his blood the closer that his mate gets to _finally_ being here. This is Derek’s house in town, away from the family until he and his mate are settled, but it isn't Stiles' home. Not yet, anyway, but as far as Derek is concerned, it's where he belongs and knows he will be someday.

Stiles is still whistling quietly, some song Derek doesn't recognise but probably should, and there's a soft jangle of keys as Stiles lets himself in. It takes all of two seconds for Derek to pounce from his spot in the shadows, crowding against Stiles' back. Stiles lets out a grunt as he's pushed up to the wall, the heavy backpack he'd been pulling off his shoulder dropping to the ground with a loud thump.

"You're not as sneaky as you think," Stiles says with a huff, the side of his face pressed against the wall. He tries to glare at Derek, but it loses its effectiveness with one squinted yellow eye and a tiny quirk at the side of his mouth that shows the sharp teeth that reacted to instinct. Mostly, he looks adorably annoyed rather than threatening. "I knew you were there. Don't need to be so pushy."

"And yet you let me," Derek replies. He knows it has nothing to do with Derek being Stiles' alpha; if Stiles really didn't want it, he'd find a way around it. He has many times in the past and it's a specialty of his now. But overcoming that part of his omega side, not just rolling over and giving in, even now that he's mated, is what makes Stiles _Stiles_. It makes Derek _want_ in ways he never knew existed until Stiles unceremoniously showed up in his life, all gangly limbs and sarcastic, stubborn mouth.

Derek pushes even closer. "Why do you have so many clothes on?"

" _That's_ what you say?" Stiles asks, incredulous. "No, 'Hi, hello, my gorgeously handsome mate, it's been a long time since I've seen you, you're awesome and I've missed you and here, here, let's have a nice sweet kiss hello.' No. No, you go right to the lack of nakedness thing. Makes a guy feel real wanted."

"Hi, I've missed you. Don't be an idiot, of course you're wanted," Derek says. Stiles' sharp teeth are gone, but Derek wants to sink his own into Stiles' soft, warm skin. He doesn't, not yet, but he does try pushing his face against Stiles' neck. There are way too many hoods in the way. "You didn't answer my question."

"A conscious decision to drive you crazy," Stiles says dryly. "Absolutely nothing to do with the weather. Nope. I thought, 'Hey, I'm going home to Northern California, where there are clouds and chilly air, but maybe I should walk around in my t-shirts and manpris so that I can catch a cold and suffer through my week of heat. Awesome!'"

Derek's hands grip the light blue, baggie hoodie Stiles seems to have procured from somewhere -- Derek doesn't remember this one, and it smells newer, not infused yet with Stiles or his favourite detergent and there's absolutely no trace of Derek, which he doesn't like at all. There's no doubt a plaid shirt, a t-shirt _and_ undershirt beneath it. It's early November, and while it's not cold with winter yet, the autumn air has a crisp chill to it now. But Derek has long thought Stiles' need to layer is absolutely ridiculous.

One good thing about heat week -- which is really just a few days and not an entire week, but admittedly the coined phrase has a nice ring to it -- is that Stiles will be radiating higher levels of body temperature and will probably want to walk around naked to feel more comfortable. Which, yes, that would suit Derek just fine. There will be a lot of that going on in the following days.

"I wouldn't let you suffer," Derek replies. He kisses at the back of Stiles' neck, trying to get past the hood which is not pulled up but bunched and in the way. That stupid beanie Stiles likes to wear _is_ pulled down too much, so Derek noses it up over Stiles' ear and lightly nips at the shell of it, kissing the soft skin behind.

Stiles sighs, but it's happy and not annoyed. "I've missed you too, you know."

"I know," Derek says, and steps back just a marginal inch. It's enough that Stiles squirms around so that he's facing Derek. But then it's Stiles' turn to pounce, and his arms are thrown around Derek's neck, mouth pressed against his, desperate and wanting.

Derek crushes him closer, one hand at the small of his back while the other is gripping the bunched material of his stupid hoodie and pressing it against the space between his shoulder blades. Stiles licks into Derek's mouth, warm and eager. Derek's more than happy to let Stiles set the pace right now; he just wants to touch and kiss and nip at his lips and suck his tongue for the rest of the night. Well, that plus much, much more.

When Stiles pulls back a little, Derek holds him in place, and one hands starts to work its way under all the layers of clothes. Luckily, it's not that hard to get into Stiles' baggy jeans.

"I want you," Derek says, voice low and rough. Stiles whimpers, his hips pressing forward. "Right here. Now."

"God, yes," Stiles says, fingers digging into Derek's shoulders. Suddenly, he's pulling away, backed up against the wall, hand on Derek's chest as if he could hold him back. Derek doesn't move, though. The look on Stiles' face keeps him in place, but barely. Stiles says, as if it's ripped out of him, "No, not now. Not yet."

"What?" Derek says flatly.

"I know, I know, it's been a few weeks since we've even seen each other.”

"Six weeks," Derek says. "Six week and four days. And approximately seven hours."

That startles a laugh out of Stiles. "God, it's nice to know you keep to your creeper stalking tendencies even though we're in a relationship now."

"Stiles," Derek says, and he's out reaching again, because Stiles will run his mouth off for hours and possibly not explain a thing. Derek doesn't always mind, but with having not touched him for six weeks and four days and approximately seven hours, it's a little more than Derek wants to handle right now.

"No, wait," Stiles says quickly, fingers pushing lightly on Derek's chest. "It's not that I don't want to -- believe me, I _do_ \-- but we have the next three to four days full of sex. Lots and lots of sex. Heat sex, which is wild and crazy and remember that time we broke the table? We should try to preserve my body and its energy until my cycle starts."

"That's not until tomorrow," Derek says. "And that's not creepy knowing that, you’ve been texting me reminders for two weeks."

Stiles smiles fondly. "I know. That's why I'm here, right? Doctor's note and the school gives me time off without any academic penalty -- which is huge, you know, _huge_ , which is why it makes it such a good school for omegas to go to--"

"I know," Derek says shortly. It had been one of the many arguments Stiles had come up with while trying to pick a college, and ending up at one so _fucking far away_ from his alpha.

A lot of alphas would have been all, _No, forget it_ and their omegas would've agreed complacently, given in and doing what their alpha wanted.

Derek knew better. Derek knew that would only upset Stiles, maybe drive him away, make him bitter and resentful, and that was no way to live as mates. So Derek fought his natural urges to keep his omega close, safe and protected and always with him, and he did his best to be fine with it, to accept that was what his omega, what Stiles, needed. And he did well enough, for the most part.

Except for right now, with Stiles wearing a determined face that they were not going to immediately be having sex after not seeing each other for weeks.

"This has nothing to do with your heat. Can't I just drop to my knees and give you a blowjob?"

Stiles groans, the back of his head banging against the wall. "You're saying that on purpose."

"Or rim you. I've been thinking about it all day," Derek says. "And using my fingers. I know you're not in heat yet, but I do have a really good stock of lube, you know."

Of course Stiles knows. Heat cycles only happen quarterly throughout the year, and it's not like they go three months without sex at all. Sex without heat is just _sex_ , and they're careful and they have lots of fun and Derek doesn't understand why they can't be doing that _right now_.

"Stop it, you bastard," Stiles says, his eyes closed. But it's starting to sound weaker, like he's about ready to give in.

"I haven't been able to make you come in over a month," Derek says. "I really want to see it."

Stiles' eyes fly open. "That's a lie and you know it. Your little strip show over Skype the other day was freaking _awesome_."

Derek can't help but smirk. Never before had he thought he'd be one of those guys to do that, but then watching Stiles jerk himself off, bite his lip in that way he does only when he comes, had been amazing. But this was different. Derek wants to smell it, feel it, touch to make it happen.

"Your current arrogant face is much deserved," Stiles admits. But then Stiles' own features steel, go harder and determined.

Derek's seen that face on the computer recently too. It was in a video that Stiles sent him, one that a friend took while Stiles spoke at the rally for Omega equality and rights, for being treated properly and respectfully, whether mated or not. Stiles is becoming known for being a little bit of an activist regarding that, had been for a long time in Beacon Hills, but it’s spreading now that he’s away at college and he’s still not taking shit from anyone.

Derek's had first hand experience with that, long before they were mated and Stiles was just a mouthy high school student that got on Derek's nerves and all up in his business. Derek hadn't reacted well to it at first, which made Stiles push harder, rather than giving up or giving in, because Stiles didn't act like other omegas. And though they thought they'd hated one another, it turned out that they actually brought out the best in each other. What a fucking shock that realisation had been for both of them.

It was why, even after they both realised they were actually compatible and that they could be mates -- after they'd both admitted they'd been ignoring it for quite a while -- it actually took a long time to be _together_. And not just because Stiles was a lot younger and still underage, for crying out loud, it was a big step for anyone to take, let alone someone still in high school. Not unheard of, and not exactly taboo if proper protocols were followed, but still a big step. Stiles had to make sure Derek really was the alpha he needed, and Derek had to figure out if that was the kind of alpha he could be because it would be so hard, so against how he was raised and the blood running through his veins. But it was even harder to ignore the want, the desire, the way Stiles made him feel and how he made him _better_.

Derek might not be very smooth at it, rough around the edges and awful with emotions, but he knows that. So does Stiles. And he still does his best by Stiles and it really is a rewarding relationship, physically and otherwise.

Well, yeah, maybe not so rewarding tonight, physically. By the look on Stiles' face, Derek's definitely not getting any sex.

"You know what being in heat does to my body," Stiles says, starting to explain even though he really doesn't need to. "Yes, it's all endorphins and self lubrication and urgent biological needs that we're both happy to give in to--" which Stiles has finally learned to be happy to give in to and actually enjoy, anyway, and man, now he takes to it like a fish to water -- "but it still leaves me tired and drained and I have to go back to school and finish three papers and study for midterms next week."

"Doesn't the school--"

"Give me time off for heat, yes, yes it's very generous that way in giving me leeway in letting me come home to my mate for a week rather than waiting out the worst of it in one of their facilities, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to be exempt from anything."

Derek frowns. He scowls. He huffs in annoyance. It's just a cover up to push down the urge to grab Stiles and tease him and make him beg and give in. Because that's what Derek wants, that's what the alpha in him wants to do, more than anything. Have his omega beg and listen and submit, let his alpha do anything and everything he wants. Derek stamps the feeling down as best he can.

"Fine," Derek says thickly, and leans down to pick up the backpack.

"But, hey, wait," Stiles says, reaching out and grabbing Derek's wrist. "That doesn't mean we can't have an epic make out session. Just saying. We should do that. We should totally do that."

"Yes, it does mean exactly that," Derek says, standing up and gently pulling away. Not a rejection, though, he never wants Stiles to think that but he's trying to make a point.

"No, it doesn't. Come on, kiss me, you big lug," Stiles says, pulling him closer.

Derek pecks the quickest of kisses to Stiles' cheek, but then fully steps away, trying not to give in to the sad little noise that comes from the back of Stiles' throat. "I can't promise I'd stop. I want you too much. So, all or nothing tonight. And I'm not trying to be an ass about it."

"Yes, you are," Stiles says, pouting.

Derek catches his eyes. "I'm really not." He's doing his best to give Stiles what he wants, but he's got to work within his own limits too, and this is already testing them.

Stiles sighs, but Derek knows he understands. "Okay, fair enough."

"Come on," Derek says, taking Stiles' hand and tugging him towards the kitchen. "I'll make us some dinner and you can tell me all about school." Not that he hasn't heard it all before, but having Stiles right there, smelling his excitement and waving his hands around, is worth hearing it all again.

"Well, that's boring," Stiles says as he easily follows.

Derek hears the lie in it, instead focuses on the warmth and contentment infusing the house with having Stiles back in it. It's coming from both of them.

\---

It's the smell that wakes Derek out of his sleep. It's Stiles, beside him, not only smelling like sex and need and urgency, but there are little moans too and the slightest shifts of movement in the bed.

They'd spent a relatively quiet evening together, having dinner and watching a movie. It was nice, just having Stiles and his bright smile and big gestures in the room again, but it had its frustrations too -- it was all Derek could do to not reach out, touch, claim what was his. It was a test, he knew, Stiles pushing back on his alpha like he hadn't been able to do for a while, even with all the logic behind it.

They'd gone to bed together though, because there was no way they were going to let themselves be apart any more than they'd had to deal with the last couple months, not when they were both _right there_. Derek wouldn't have let them be separated, he would've put his foot down, but Stiles didn't even try, not for that. But they'd both been properly clothed and gone down with just a simple good night kiss, taken their own sides of the bed with a little distance between them. But Derek could feel it on the air like static before a storm; the want, the frustration, and absolutely desperate way they were both holding back -- Stiles too, even if he was too stubborn to admit it.

None of that matters now. Because, as it seems, Stiles' heat has come earlier than expected. In the past year that they've been mated, since right after Stiles started his senior year, and the three heats they've already been through since -- Derek knows he doesn't have to wait any longer to have his mate tonight. Stiles wouldn't even think of denying him, wouldn't want to, and Derek will make it so good for him.

Stiles is on his belly, face pressed down into his pillow. Derek reaches out and puts a hand on Stiles' back, smoothes over the t-shirt he's wearing. Stiles moans a little, and his hips buck down into the mattress.

"Stiles," Derek says, voice rough with sleep. He doesn't even know if Stiles is awake yet, if his body is ready and out the gate before his mind has caught up. Not that his mind will be clear very much longer. "Stiles, come on now."

Stiles turns his head, blinks open his eyes. Derek can see perfectly through the dark, his night vision clear, aided by the combined moonlight and street lights streaming through the window. It's especially easy with Stiles so close to him. Stiles' eyes are rimmed with gold, the heat and animalistic nature starting to take over his body.

"Derek, oh god," Stiles says, muffled into the pillow. "So hot, it's so warm."

Derek immediately pulls the covers off of them, and as soon as Stiles' body is exposed to the air, a wall of smell hits him, a thousand times stronger than what woke him up. It's like the pheromones are pouring out of his veins, the stinging sweet smell of it enticing Derek's own alpha nature. His nostrils flare and his cock is already hard.

Derek moves closer, throwing one leg over Stiles, and his hand rubs more insistent over his back. He noses at Stiles' shoulder, wishing it were his bare skin and not his shirt. There's no time, not quite yet, to get rid of Stiles' clothes. The sounds Stiles is making are too close, his body needing that first release _now_. Derek will help him with this so that he can be more relaxed, more with it, when Derek takes him.

"Come on," Derek says. He pushes his face into the crook of Stiles' neck, licking and sucking on the warm skin. Stiles moans, tilting his head to the side to bare his throat, giving Derek better access. He uncurls one arm from where he’s got a death grip on his pillow, but quickly shoves it under his own body. "That's it," Derek says. His hand moves down, gripping at Stiles' ass through his sleep pants, pressing the material down in his crack. Stiles bucks again, and then he's in a constant motion, humping his own hand and the mattress. "Come on," Derek says again, pushing the words into Stiles' skin. "You need to come. You need to come for me." He bites down on Stiles' throat.

Stiles whines, high pitched and shaky, as his whole body shudders when he comes. Derek keeps rubbing over his ass, hands slipping under the waistband to touch his skin. Stiles sighs and his whole body relaxes, sinking down into the mattress and the pillow.

When he finally blinks open his eyes, they're their own colour and looking at Derek clearly. Coming once, giving his body that release, cleared up the foggy haze his cycle puts him in, but it isn't going to last very long. He's going to want more, a lot more, and soon. _Derek_ wants a lot more, pretty much now.

"What the hell?" Stiles manages to say. "That was ... not till tomorrow ... what?"

Derek leans back a little, smirking at him. "You really should've let me give you a blowjob earlier. Take off the edge." And then Derek's in motion, sitting up on the bed and pulling off the t-shirt he's wearing, and pushing down his boxer shorts. Stiles is watching him, licking his lips when he sees Derek's hard cock.

"What? Why?"

Derek doesn't answer, he's too busy. He pushes up Stiles' shirt, and Stiles cooperates just enough to get it up over his head. Derek catches the hand that Stiles came all over, nuzzling the palm and giving it a couple licks before he lets it go, the teasing familiar taste of Stiles in his mouth. He would do more, lick him clean, but he moves on to help peel Stiles out of his sleep pants. Stiles groans as the air hits his skin, and once naked he shifts on the bed so that his ass is up in the air. He's so ready for this.

Derek leans down and starts kissing over the expanse of Stiles' back, mouthing an errant pattern around the moles.

"My heat came early," Stiles says, his forehead resting on his arms that are folded on the bed. He had caught his breath for a moment after he came, but when Derek's fingers move down over his spine, lower and lower, it catches in his throat.

"Because I'm right here."

"You triggered it," Stiles accuses, though he doesn't sound that distraught about it at all. Of course Derek triggered it; Stiles is an omega who hasn't been touched in weeks on the verge of his heat cycle and finally with his alpha again. They both should've thought ahead on this one. Derek could claim that he had, but really, he just wanted sex with his boyfriend and they both knew it.

"Maybe it’s my turn to play hard to get. Should I?" Derek muses, his fingers circling around Stiles' hole. It's a little damp, practically leaking, and he had to bite back his own moan when he imagines how wet Stiles must be for him, how his body got itself ready to be taken. "Make you wait for it? See how _you_ do?"

Stiles snorts, calling on Derek's bluff. "I smell you too, you know. You want this. You've wanted this all day."

"Much longer than that."

Stiles shifts on his knees again, letting them slide across the bed sheets, his legs spreading out and ass even more exposed. "So take it."

Derek pushes two fingers in without any preamble, but they move easily through the slick of Stiles' heat. Stiles moans, and his hips jerk back, trying to take more of it.

"You're right," Derek says.

"Holy crap, did you really just say that? Can I have it in writing?"

Derek chuckles as he moves around so that he's behind Stiles, kneeling between his legs and draping himself over Stiles' back. His fingers continue to pump in and out so easily. He nips at Stiles' ear. "I want this. I want _you_. You're so good for me, so ready."

"God, yes I am," Stiles says, his voice wavering and losing any cocky playfulness. "So do it, just do it."

Derek adds a third finger. He doesn't really need to but he likes hearing the hitch of Stiles' breath, the moan, the way his body shifts under Derek's as he tries to press back into it. "So good," Derek says again. "Are you going to take it, Stiles? Going to take my knot?"

Stiles groans deep. Of course he is, he loves being knotted, Derek knows this so well. Just one mention of it can send Stiles wild in this state; he's holding on now, though, trying not to completely lose his mind. It's like he wants to relish this, remember it crystal clear. "Yes, yes," Stiles says. "If you just fucking _fuck_ me already, Christ."

"Pushiest omega," Derek says mildly, biting back his own groan as Stiles grips the sheets and rocks back.

"I'll show you pushy," Stiles says. "Would you -- oh, god," he moans when Derek's fingers brush against the right spot, making him even wetter, "just _take_ me already."

Derek mouth is right next to Stiles' ear. "Want me to breed you?" he says lowly. "Give you my knot and fill you up so much."

Stiles reply is only a high-pitched moan.

Until Derek's entire body freezes, tense around Stiles. He can't believe he forgot to ask.

Then Stiles huffs, sensing Derek's hesitation. "Yes, yes," Stiles says, "I went to the doctor. Got my shot. All metaphorical breeding, I promise, though if you don't fucking move on with it I'll find someone or something that will." His voice is high and tight by the end of his rant.

Derek's body relaxes then, the trip-up in his mind giving in to his body's instinct. He can tell that Stiles is so close now, about to give in to his own urges, the heat sweeping over his body until he'll practically be in pain until he comes and just wanting to _get fucked_. He'll go wild and crazy with it, shoving his own fingers up his ass or digging around to find one of their toys or something else dirty and desperate until he gets to come until he's satisfied.

That's why Derek's here. The need and want to help, to do that to Stiles, for Stiles, takes over completely. He wastes no more time and pushes in his hard cock. It’s an easy slide, so perfect, and Stiles' back arches as he takes it in.

Derek isn't slow and sweet with it. It's been too long, and he wants too much. His thrusts are fast, hard, hands gripping Stiles' hips. For his part, Stiles seems to be right on board with it. He's on all fours, pushing back as Derek pulls, force and momentum of it slamming Derek's cock into him.

At one point, Stiles glances back over his shoulder. His eyes burn bright amber, and his claws are digging into the mattress. There are low growls pushed out of him every time his ass slaps against Derek's skin. It’s not like Stiles is shifted, but the heat pushes the boundaries of his human side; with Derek here helping him out, Stiles is safe to give over completely.

"You want my knot, don't you?" Derek says, a low growl lining every word, echoing Stiles’. He can feel the base of his cock growing, the circular knob of it brushing against Stiles' hole with each push into his body.

"Yes, yes, oh my god, yes," Stiles agrees, a desperate whine infusing his voice.

Derek doesn't say anything else, just presses his hand between Stiles' shoulder blades. Stiles' arms give out until his chest is down on the bed. It's easier like this, gives Derek a bit of leverage as he grinds his hips down. His knot resists for a moment against the rim of Stiles' hole. "Breath, relax," Derek says, and grunts as Stiles' body gives way to his knot and he pushes in more. Derek groans as he slides in; there’s nothing else like this, nothing in the world, like being fully inside Stiles’ body, enveloped in the warmth and tightness of it.

It's hard to get a good rhythm then, no room to forcefully thrust, just a roll of his hips as his hard cock is held inside. Stiles sounds desperate though, trying to push back, take more, needing more.

"Up, up," Derek says, arms going around Stiles' waist and pulling Stiles up as he sits back on his haunches. Stiles ends up on his knees, sitting in Derek's lap, his back against Derek's chest. Stiles starts wiggling, trying to move, arms flailing a bit.

"Move us ... up," Stiles gasps, hands making grabby motions at the headboard. Derek gets the hint, walks them on their knees until Stiles can grip around the top rail. There's already claw marks on the back of it, what's another set of them?

It's easier for Stiles this way, now that he's grounded and can work with some leverage. His hips gyrate back, easier for him to roll them, to ride Derek's cock and his knot. Derek still wants to come, but feels less frantic now, knowing he's knotted Stiles and there's no going back. He kisses across Stiles' shoulder blades and licks the sweat that's running in beads down his skin, and his hands go around to Stiles’ chest to play with his nipples, pinching them hard. Stiles groans and tilts his head to the side and forward. Derek drags one hand down over Stiles’ stomach to grip his cock, hard and leaking, and he bites down on the tendon of Stiles' neck.

Stiles' whole body shudders, and he clenches around Derek's cock and his knot as he hits a quick orgasm, coming all over Derek's hand. Derek whispers filthy things into Stiles' ear and strokes him through it, until he’s come all he can and he starts to go soft. Stiles shifts back so he collapses against Derek's chest again, head lolling against Derek’s shoulder, and Derek groans into his ear as he sinks down even more on Derek's knot.

"Derek," Stiles says, sounding wrecked but satisfied. Sounding himself again, the heat of his body taken care of for now. But it isn't quite enough, not yet. "I want to feel you," he says, "I want to feel you come in me so much. For me, please, do it."

It's more than Derek can handle, and now that Stiles is taken care of, his own body needs to find that release. Derek growls, and pushes up off his haunches onto his knees, easily taking Stiles with him. He inches forward and then he has Stiles' face pressed up against the wall over the backboard. It reminds Derek of earlier, when Stiles first got home. The railing is probably pressing into Stiles’ stomach, but he doesn't make any complaints about it. He just makes little _ah-ah_ sounds with each roll of Derek's hips. It's a good rhythm, and Derek's cock gets harder, his knot getting even bigger in Stiles' ass, until finally Derek climaxes. He pulses into Stiles' body, so much come filling him up, but Stiles takes it and sighs happily when Derek collapses against his back, the wall and headboard holding them up.

They're tied together. Derek's knot is still thick and full in Stiles, and it's not likely to go back down for a while yet. Once they've both caught their breaths and their hearts are beating more steadily, Derek slips his arm around Stiles and moves them back. With some of the movements, Stiles hisses and gasps, but Derek's as careful as he can be and Stiles doesn't once complain.

Finally they're settled on their sides, Derek spooned up behind Stiles with his soft cock still held inside of him by the knot. Stiles wiggles and shifts around, drawing one of Derek's arms around him and somehow reaching down to grab the covers. They make awkward work of setting it right, but finally they're comfortable, or as much as they can be like this. Stiles tilts his head back and Derek kisses him. It's sloppy and uncoordinated and perfect.

"Rest," Derek tells him. Derek won't be comfortable enough to sleep until his knot has gone down and he can slip out of Stiles. But he knows from experience that Stiles can sleep -- needs to be sleeping, this late into the night and heat hitting him so suddenly -- with them like this, which is why Derek took him from behind, so that he can do so easier.

It doesn't take long before Stiles drifts to sleep, Derek holding him close.

\---

Derek's hand is numb. There's no circulation getting to it and now he can't feel it. He slips his arm out from under Stiles' head to try to shake his hand out, and the fact that this starts to wake Stiles up isn't something that Derek is too worried about right now.

It's not only Derek's hand that isn't exactly right. And he sort of -- okay, _really_ \-- needs Stiles' help here at the moment.

"Derek?" Stiles says sleepily. It's soft and vulnerable, and nicely fucked out, and god that voice hits Derek in the stomach every time, because he knows he's the only one that ever hears it.

"Hey," Derek says. It's awkward because he doesn’t have a lot of space to work with but Derek rubs his hand that's full of tingles.

"Watch it," Stiles says, rolling his head away when he gets a soft bump on the cheekbone with an elbow.

"Sorry," Derek says, and he lets his one arm drop back down to drape over Stiles' waist, hand settling on his lower stomach. He scratches blunt fingernails through Stiles' happy trail, flaking off dried come.

Stiles practically purrs and wiggles back a little. He hisses when his hips shift. "Oh," he says, and Derek's leaning over enough to see that Stiles' eyes open. He's starting to get it now. "Oh, we're still -- you haven't -- that's--" He trails off and tilts his hips back more, and this time he sighs contently with it.

Derek isn't quite as comfortable. He likes it, he really does, but it's been ... a while that they've been tied together. And he knows what they need to do. Derek leans down and mouths open kisses along Stiles' sharp jawline. "I need to come in you again."

Stiles goes stiff beside him. "Dude, did you start fucking me again when I was still asleep?"

"No, I--"

"Because that's not cool. I want to be awake when that happens! I want to feel you knot me, asshole, not you just go ahead and do it. How is that even possible? I'd _know_. My heat daze isn’t _that_ bad."

Derek huffs and nips at Stiles' earlobe. Stiles tries to squirm away, but really, there's nowhere he can go, not when they're like this. They're literally stuck together. "I did not fuck you while you were sleeping," Derek says, rolling his eyes. "We're still tied together, idiot."

"I -- oh. _Oh_! You're --" Stiles pauses for a moment, and then his voice comes out in wonder. "Your knot hasn't gone down yet."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you."

"And you need to come again. You don't -- twice! You've never had to twice!"

Derek's hand moves down even more, reaches to cup Stiles' balls. Stiles makes a sound in the back of his throat, like he's trying to cut off a moan. But he leans back into Derek even more. Derek slips his arm under Stiles' head again, and cradles him against his body.

"You're not the only one whose body wants this. I need to fuck you so bad, to come in you again. Can't you tell?"

Stiles doesn't bother holding back his moan this time. He melts back against Derek completely, lifts one leg up enough to hook back over Derek's legs, trying to open up more. "You smell so good, like you want this so much."

"I always do," Derek says. He pushes on Stiles' face gently to turn his head even more, and then they're kissing, sloppy and open and desperate. It's all tongue and teeth and spit, but it's amazing. Derek starts to roll his hips, slow and gently, working his way into it. Stiles' breath hitches in their kissing until he finally pulls away. As he turns his head forward, Derek sees there's a flash of gold in Stiles' eyes again, and the air is thick with the smell of his pheromones. There's a new flood of slickness in his ass, making Derek's cock and knot move even smoother.

"Oh, yes," Derek says, sucking at the warm, damp skin of Stiles' neck. "You want this too."

"Need this," Stiles manages to gasp. "Want this."

Derek hums against his throat, and then shoves two fingers into Stiles' mouth. Stiles takes them in easily, eagerly licking and sucking them.

"That's good, that's my boy," Derek says. He slips his hand aware from where he'd loosely been stroking Stiles' cock. Stiles whines around Derek's fingers in protest. "It's okay, you do it. Jerk your cock for me."

Stiles whines again, this time with lust and want, when he takes his own cock in hand and starts to jerk it at a feverish pace. Derek uses his free hand to slip beneath Stiles' thigh and hook his leg up in the air, so that his leg is splayed up, but crooked at the knee and his foot dangling in the air. It exposes him more, spreads him out and gives Derek more space to roll his hips.

It's a position that works for them, and it doesn't take long before Stiles' body is tense and tight with a building orgasm. Derek's cock grows harder in him, each roll of his hip dragging his cock head over a sensitive spot. Stiles' thigh muscles grow tight under Derek's hand, his leg jerking up higher into the air, his toes curling.

"Need you to come for me," Derek says. Then he smells it on the air as Stiles comes on his own hand again, and can feel his body tremble against Derek's, his teeth biting down on Derek's fingers.

Derek slips his wet fingers out of Stiles' mouth when he tries to grasp for air. He carefully lowers Stiles' leg again. "Gonna move us to your belly," Derek says, trying to bite back how desperate he sounds too. Stiles is warm and wet around him, still clenching tight, and Derek just _needs_.

Stiles barely nods before Derek's pushing them over. Stiles is face down against the mattress, legs spread wide, and he stretches his arms up, fingers curling at the edge of the mattress, as if trying to anchor himself down so he can just _take it_.

And take it he does. Derek uses his forearms to cage on either side of Stiles' head to hold himself up, not crush Stiles' ribs and let him try to breath. It doesn't sound like he's able to catch his breath much though, not with the way Derek's humping him, hips pistoning fast. Derek's hard, so very hard, and he needs to come. When he's close, when he knows he so fucking close, he stills as much he can, instead grinding down in Stiles' ass. Stiles makes desperate little noises, half-sobs and half-encouragements, pleading for Derek to come, to breed him, to fill him up and never stop.

Derek comes. He comes hard, and it's enough that his knot goes down, just a little. But he isn't finished yet. He's able to move more, and he pounds down into Stiles until the knot empties into Stiles' ass. Stiles gasps and keens, wanting, moving his ass up to meet Derek.

When Derek's done coming, he stays like that, buried deep in Stiles even with the knot gone down, until he goes completely soft. When he pulls out of the slick warmth, they both gasp at the loss of it. Derek collapses on his back beside Stiles.

They don't touch, not really, don't curl into each other or cuddle or anything like that. Not yet. They discovered this about each other after their first heat together; it's as if they need the space to come back to themselves, to their own bodies, clear their minds in a way. But there's also this weird ache at being separated, after being held together so close. So Derek doesn't find it annoying or out of the ordinary when Stiles reaches out and puts his hand on Derek's chest, fingers splaying over Derek's heart. Derek puts his own hand on top of it. It's enough to ground them both.

"Stiles," Derek says after a few minutes, looking from his spot on the ceiling over to his mate. Stiles' eyes are closed, but there's a content smile on his face. "Don't go to sleep."

"I'm not," Stiles says sleepily.

"You need water," Derek says. He wrinkles his nose. "And you need to shower."

"Hey," Stiles says, taking his hand back enough to weakly punch Derek in the shoulder. He must be completely fucked out. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that you're going to wake up with all that dried come in your ass and complain for _hours_. I know how this goes. Plus, we have to change the sheets because I am on top of one of your wetspots right now and I'm not sleeping like that." Derek summons up enough energy to push himself up out of bed. "Come on, let's go."

As soon as Derek's out of bed, Stiles spreads out like a fucking starfish, somehow missing putting his limbs into any of the wetspots. He sighs contently. "God, I love going into heat with you. Going into heat is a beautiful, natural thing that everyone should embrace, mated or not."

"You really are fucked out, to be saying that."

"I am totally and one hundred percent satisfied," Stiles says, rolling over. His dick is limp again, and there's dried come all over his stomach, and dripping between his legs. "And it's the truth. Wish I would've known sooner because it would've been easier when still on my own. You know, enjoying it instead of just getting it _done_. Still, wouldn't give up heat with you for _anything_."

"You're saying nice things because you want me to help you in the shower."

"Do I freaking ever. So much come. Isn't it your duty as alpha to make sure I'm happy and content or something like that?"

"Unless you want me physically dragging you out of bed, you better get your own ass up or there will be no helping. None."

That gets Stiles moving, and quick.

That doesn't stop the warm feeling from spreading through Derek's stomach. He knows the science, and he knows public opinion of omegas in heat. He even knows it on a personal level from the stories Stiles told him, how much he hated being a horny omega teenager trying to take care of himself during heat. Even experienced first hand with how unsure and self-conscious Stiles was the first time they were together during one. It took all of five seconds for that to fly out the window, with Derek's help, for him to enjoy it and embrace it for what it was. A necessity, yes, but a ritual between mates, something they don't share with anyone else. And now he knows how sacred and special it really is, they both do. Derek wouldn't give that up for anything either.

But Stiles' flippant comments also don't change the fact that Derek had every full intention of taking care of his omega after his first cycle of this heat, and will be after every single one. And Stiles knows that too, he just likes to run his mouth off. So Derek quietly and helpfully assists Stiles in the shower, cleaning him thoroughly while kissing him lazily. He towels him off, and gently manhandles him into the big, comfortable chair in the corner of the bedroom. He gets a couple bottles of water and makes sure Stiles drinks a full one while Derek changes the dirty sheets on the bed. Then Stiles collapses onto the bed and this is when he snuggles in, content and utterly exhausted, unable to stay awake any longer. Derek doesn't mind at all. He puts his arms around Stiles and holds him close, and they sleep through the rest of the night.

\---

Derek gets restless in the morning while he lies awake next to a slumbering Stiles. Derek's never been very good at sleeping in or lazing about in bed all day. When he's tired and exhausted, like after a round of heat sex and knotting, he'll sleep like the dead, but as soon as he naturally wakes up he feels the need to get up and carry on with his day.

Stiles is the exact opposite. Especially after going through a heat cycle -- _especially_ one that hits him in the middle of the night. It's like his body resets itself and still needs to get a solid eight hours after that. And Derek knows how hard Stiles has been pushing himself at school; attending classes, doing all the readings and research and papers, plus finding time to socialise and organise meetings and rallies about omega rights, and having late night videosex sessions with Derek. All important things, but Stiles is due a good bit of rest.

Despite being restless, Derek doesn't want to leave Stiles, the alpha in him anchoring him close to his mate, wanting to watch out for him and make sure he gets proper rest and wakes up feeling 100%. So Derek, despite the fact he's not very good at lounging in bed, stays there while Stiles sleeps into the morning. Stiles has wrapped himself up in the covers like he's in a cocoon, all soft and safe, but he's nestled up to Derek's side. Derek isn't covered, doesn't need to be with the warmth he's feeling from himself and coming from Stiles through the blankets.

"Oh my god," Stiles mumbles. A hand sneaks out of the covers and pushes at Derek after the third time in five minutes he's shifted around to try to get comfortable. "Go away."

"Stiles--"

Stiles pulls back the covers from over his head. His eyes barely open, and his short hair is growing out a bit and sticking out in little tufts. He's frowning and, quite frankly, looking really freaking adorable. "And people call me the fidgety one."

"You are."

"Not right now." Stiles pushes Derek again with a surprising amount of strength, though it's probably all that he has in him right now, and Derek give no resistance, sliding across the sheets a few inches. "You're awake. So get up and go, I don't know, do something."

"I need to stay with you." It's the basic truth, but there are a lot of reasons for it. Stiles is probably not in the mood for them right now.

"Then go sit in the chair with a book. Or watch a movie on your tablet. Or stand right beside the bed and loom over me like the creeper you are, I don't care, as long as you get the heck out of our bed."

Derek's heart skips a beat at hearing it being called their bed, and by the sleepy smirk on his face, Stiles is aware of it, the brat. But then he burrows himself back down into his nest of blankets, pulling it over his head, and mumbles, "I'm trying to sleep here."

Derek sighs, not wanting to be parted from Stiles, but he knows it's what's best for him. So he presses a kiss to the blankets, to what he's pretty sure is Stiles' shoulder, and runs a hand over Stiles' side. Stiles rumbles contently, but also sighs with relief when Derek gets up out of bed. It doesn't take long before Stiles slips back into a deep sleep.

Derek doesn't go far. He does as Stiles suggested and sits in the comfortable chair that's in the corner of the room. He reads one of the novels Stiles has as part of his Omega Lit class; it's fictional, but it makes Derek think about the point of view of the omega in it, the perceptions and prejudices he faces, the entire social idea behind it. It'll be nice to sit down with Stiles later and talk about it, bounce ideas back and forth off each other; Stiles has mentioned he has to write a paper on it, and might like Derek's alpha views, though he's likely to argue every single one.

Derek can't wait.

He's almost through the book when Stiles starts to stir again. Stiles peeks his head out of his cocoon and says mournfully, "So hungry."

Derek takes note of the page he's on and puts the book down. "Breakfast?"

Stiles nods, and starts to push himself up. "Please."

"Going to come down?"

"Meh," Stiles says, and collapses down on the bed again.

Derek just grins and heads downstairs. He knows the smell of food will rouse Stiles soon enough.

Derek's right. It doesn't take long with him rummaging around the kitchen and starting to cook, the smells of sausage and bacon drifting on the air, before he can hear the squeaking of the mattress as Stiles gets out of bed. A couple minutes later, he wanders in. Derek glances at him, only mildly disappointed that Stiles isn't walking around naked as he'd hoped the day before, because he's in Derek's second favourite look; clean plaid sleep pants and a hoodie -- it's the same light blue zip-up hoodie he had on the day before, the one with his university name splashed in yellow across the front, but now it smells less new and more like _DerekandStiles_ , so Derek supposes it isn't too bad. Stiles pads across the kitchen in bare feet and plops down on a chair at the breakfast nook table. He's rested and smiley and seems right at home, which is Derek's absolute favourite part about the look.

"Don't think I didn't notice the new lounge chair in the living room yesterday," Stiles says. He plucks at a grape in the fruit bowl and pops it in his mouth.

"You didn't comment," Derek says.

"Well, _yeah_ ," Stiles says. "I was trying to avoid the subject of sex so neither of us got riled--"

"That didn't work out."

"-- so I didn't mention how awesome that chair would be for sex. Heat sex. Knotting sex. Face-to-face knotting sex. Because it's wide and I could spread my legs and hook my ankles over the arms and there's a whole bunch of cushions to make it comfortable. It's gonna work. We are totally doing that next, okay?"

If Stiles is trying to make Derek blush or protest or anything else like that, or maybe even try to make him all possessive and growly right that moment, it doesn't work. Because Derek has thought through all these things before, and more. And bought that chair for a very, very specific reason, and Stiles hit the nail on the head with it.

So Derek glances over at Stiles, with a playful leer, but goes back to dishing up a plate.

"Oh my god!" Stiles laughs. "You bought us a comfortable chair for heat sex. You are the most romantic."

Derek brings over a plate of food and puts it down in front of him. "Eat your breakfast, Stiles."

"Pancakes!" Stiles says delightedly, even though he picks up a piece of bacon. "And the romance keeps on coming."

Derek rolls his eyes, but takes the chair next to Stiles. They dig into their breakfast and it's in comfortable silence, other than Stiles' appreciative groans the more he fills himself up.

"Awesome," Stiles says as he clears their empty plates after a second helping. "So awesome. Okay, wait here for a minute, I'll be back."

Derek takes a sip of his third cup of coffee, and groans in disappointment when Stiles returns to the kitchen with an armful of school work. This wasn't how he expected their day to go, although he supposes there will have to be some downtime that doesn't involve their mating habits.

"I can't help it, I should try to get as much done between all the sex and sleeping and eating, okay? It'll make next week easier for me."

"Fine," Derek says grumpily. He turns a little more interested when Stiles dumps the book he'd been reading earlier in front of him.

"I'm going to work on economics first," Stiles says, "but you should finish that so that we can talk about it later and I can tell you your opinion is wrong."

"My opinion would not be wrong," Derek says as he leafs through it to find his page. "Yours will just be different, but that's okay and we can agree to disagree. Isn't that what you've been telling me for years? If I deal with it, so can you."

Stiles doesn't say anything back immediately, like he usually would. That's a bit unsettling, because Derek was joking around, just as he knew Stiles had been with what he said. Derek risks a glance up, wondering if he's going to have to do damage control. But it seems he doesn't have to, which … is equally confusing.

Stiles' features are soft and fond, and when Derek meets his eyes, there's a flicker of absolute awe and naked, unabashed love.

That look might not come out all the time, the two of them so comfortable with being _them_ , bickering and needling each other, or goofing around, or dealing with the absolutely crazy lust and want that takes them over. But Derek knew the first time he saw that look that, yeah, he reflected it right back -- _felt_ it right back -- and he still does. It's impossible not to.

It's also one of the few instances that Derek has absolutely no idea what to do with the feeling that punches him right in the gut. "What?" he asks gruffly.

"Nothing. You. Just -- the romance just keeps coming, huh?" Stiles says, soft and happy. Before Derek can say anything back, Stiles leans in to swoop a quick kiss to his lips. Now this, this Derek knows how to deal with. He tries to chase Stiles' mouth when he pulls back, but Stiles just laughs and smushes his hand to Derek's face and gently pushes him away.

"Work," Stiles says firmly. "Play later."

"How did I get roped into doing some of your work?" Derek asks, but he gets comfortable and holds the book out in front of himself to read.

"Because you'll be brilliant and opinionated and stubborn and give me points to respectfully debate, which ultimately will lead me to writing a kickass paper."

"Oh," Derek says, like he hadn't already thought of it himself. "Sounds fun to me."

Stiles grins. "See? We're good at that."

"That we are," Derek agrees.

They settle into more comfortable silence, the only sounds in the room the highlighter Stiles uses on his textbook, the occasional turning of pages, and their hearts beating in a mellow unison. Derek doesn't say anything when he finishes the book, just holds it open and stares at the last sentence for a few minutes, trying to formulate thoughts. Then he re-reads the last chapter. Twice.

When he finally closes the book and puts it down on the table, Stiles snaps his economic textbook shut. 

"Holy shit," Derek says.

Stiles slams his hand down on the table. "Right? Oh my god."

He then launches into an enthusiastic speech about the novel's protagonist, who he identifies with on a deep level but also differs from in many ways. And then he goes on to expounds on each and every one, hands waving excitedly, but running through the points perfectly, as if plucking them off an outline he probably already has typed up somewhere. Derek listens, _hmms_ and _haaas_ at the right times, and sneaks in counter-points once in awhile, which only mildly trip Stiles up until he sorts it out in his head and argues on with an excited fervour.

Derek hasn't even gotten into a damn thing about the main alpha of the story yet, which is going to set Stiles off even more. He rubs his hands together and is about to start in on the antagonist, who _he_ deeply identifies with but is also quite different from, when Stiles suddenly stops short of his rant.

"Oh crap," he says, sighing. But he doesn't sound that upset.

"What?"

"We're going to have to put this on hold for a while." Stiles pushes his chair out from the table and stands up. He still faces Derek but is backing toward the kitchen door.

" _What_?" Derek asks, put out. "I'm about to go into my side of it. Of _course_ you would want to stop now."

"I promise I'm stopping for a good reason. The debate can wait."

"Really? Like what?"

Stiles unzips his hoodie. He's not wearing anything underneath it, just exposes his bare chest to the air. Derek takes in a sharp breath; god, what that sight does to him.

And it's not just the sight. Derek can smell Stiles now, the sweet tang of his heat growing again. Derek can't believe he didn't notice it sooner, the redness of Stiles' cheeks as a blush moves in, and the little line of sweat that's breaking out over his forehead. But sometimes Stiles gets like that when he's worked up, so Derek supposes it makes sense that's what he took it for.

But now, shrugging off the hoodie and letting it fall to the floor, Derek can smell it, suddenly strong and very enticing. And his dick is happily taking notice. Gold is starting to slightly inch its way into Stiles' eyes, and they were both so caught up in their discussion that they seemed to not have noticed the oncoming cycle. But they do now.

"Romance off," Derek says, quickly getting to his feet. "Crazy heat sex on."

Stiles laughs at him and makes his getaway. He doesn't go far, though, and Derek easily catches up, tackling him down onto the large lounge chair.

"This is going to be so good," Stiles says, pulling Derek into a deep kiss.

Derek agrees. It always is.


End file.
